


it ain't love if i can't feel it in my body and my blood

by sevensevan



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Implied Sexual Content, Strangers to Lovers, i am confusion, is that not how all relationships work, kind of, stephenie myer or whoever tf i'm coming for u, why is that a tag, yes i wrote a vampire au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 15:51:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14405424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevensevan/pseuds/sevensevan
Summary: Jemma meets Daisy in a bar in Bulgaria. She then lets Daisy drink her blood in an alleyway. It’s maybe not one of her wiser decisions.





	it ain't love if i can't feel it in my body and my blood

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by two dialogue prompts sent by an anon: “quit it or i’ll bite” and “killed him? wait, what, literally?”. the obligatory vampire au. i felt kind of stupid writing this, but you know what, i’ve also written entire fics about french fries, so this isn’t that bad. it was funny, then considerably more risqué than anything else i’ve written, then it took a decidedly angsty turn. i hope you like it.

For the record, when Jemma had decided to travel across Europe after graduating from the S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy, she hadn’t intended on getting her blood drunk by a stranger in an alley in Bulgaria. She doesn’t even have an excuse for it, honestly. The girl is pretty, and Jemma has recently discovered that she is, in fact, very, very gay.

Besides, Daisy is shockingly upfront about the whole vampire thing. She leads Jemma out the back door of a bar and into the alley, shows her the fangs that push against her lip, and asks Jemma if she would mind being bitten by a vampire. Jemma doesn’t exactly hesitate. Daisy is gorgeous, and she’s giving Jemma the same look she gave her in the bar, all dark eyes and lips quirked up, only now her fangs are showing, and—well.

Jemma finds out, a few hours later, that Daisy has excellent taste in wine. She’s sitting against the headboard of a ridiculously large bed, with the softest sheets she’s ever encountered. Bruises mark her throat and thighs, some from Daisy drinking her blood, some…not, and Daisy returns from the kitchen, wrapped in a luxurious-looking white robe, carrying two wineglasses. She hands one to Jemma, who takes it with a smile, and sits on the bed at Jemma’s feet, tucking one leg beneath her.

“So you can taste things?” Jemma asks, sipping the wine and sighing appreciatively. Daisy seems to find that funny.

“Did you think I wouldn’t be able to?” she asks, smiling in amusement.

“Well, to be perfectly honest, I hadn’t given vampires much thought before today,” Jemma says. “Seeing as, you know, you’re not supposed to exist.” Daisy tips her head in acknowledgement and sips her own wine. Jemma doesn’t even try to hide the way she’s admiring the curve of Daisy’s throat, and if the suggestive grin Daisy gives her is any indication, Daisy catches her looking.

“Yes, I can taste things,” Daisy says, answering Jemma’s earlier question. “Food, alcohol, whatever else. I don’t need to eat, but I can still enjoy it.”

“And the blood?” Jemma asks, driven by an odd sort of morbid curiosity. “Does it taste good?” Daisy considers the question for a moment, leaning over Jemma and setting her wine on the nightstand. Jemma tries not to be visibly affected by their sudden proximity. Judging by the small, smug smirk that appears on Daisy’s face, she’s not all that successful. Daisy doesn’t return to her position near Jemma’s feet; instead, she crosses her legs and settles by Jemma’s hip.

“It’s different each time,” Daisy says, frowning thoughtfully. The expressions is… _cute_ , is the word that springs to Jemma’s mind. It occurs to her that perhaps cute isn’t a word that normally applies to centuries-old, undead creatures, but the irrational side of Jemma’s mind (the side that’s been growing since she agreed to let someone she met in a bar a few hours ago _drink her blood_ and subsequently slept with said someone) decides that it _absolutely_ applies to Daisy. “Some people taste good. I usually drink blood bags, so I put them in smoothies and such to improve the flavor.” Jemma blinks. _That_ is…not a nice image. Daisy catches Jemma’s disturbed look, and she smiles, sort of sadly. She looks _vulnerable_ , which is another thing that Jemma wouldn’t expect from someone who literally cannot die. “Sorry,” Daisy murmurs, looking down at the sheets. “That…well, I guess it is kinda gross.”

“A bit,” Jemma admits, because she’s fairly sure Daisy would have some kind of supernatural way of knowing if she lied. In a moment of bravery, she reaches out, setting a hand on Daisy’s leg. “But I asked.” She drains the last of her wine, setting the glass on the nightstand by Daisy’s, which is still partially full. “What do I taste like?” Daisy’s eyes shoot up from the sheets, and Jemma inhales sharply at the dark look in her eyes. “That…wasn’t meant to be a come-on,” she says, although the way her voice rasps sort of belies the statement. Daisy smirks, and _oh_ , her fangs are showing again.

“Oh, it wasn’t?” she asks. Jemma shakes her head. Daisy glances down. Jemma follows her gaze, and _oh look_ , her fingertips are tracing circles on Daisy’s thigh. She isn’t sure when that started. Daisy breathes out, long and slow, and suddenly, faster than Jemma’s eyes can see, her hand shoots out, fingers wrapping around Jemma’s wrist. “That tickles,” she says, and Jemma bursts out laughing. It’s ridiculous. Daisy is…Jemma hadn’t gotten an exact figure, but she’s well over two centuries old, and ridiculously badass, and superhuman, and _ticklish_.

“Stop laughing at me,” Daisy grumbles, but she doesn’t sound particularly upset. Jemma just laughs harder. Daisy reaches out, catching Jemma by the hips and lifting her effortlessly, pulling her away from the headboard and pushing her down onto her back on the mattress. “Quit it or I’ll bite you,” she says, placing her hands on either side of Jemma’s head and holding her body above Jemma’s, close enough that Jemma can feel the heat of her.

It’s an odd thing, that a vampire should be warm. Jemma would’ve expected her to be cold, physically and in every other way. Dead. Instead, Daisy is one of the most firmly _alive_ people Jemma has ever met; kind and funny and mysterious, yes, but in a way that makes Jemma want to talk to no one else but her. And she’s _warm_.

“What if that’s the point?” Jemma says breathlessly. Daisy grins, and Jemma can see her fangs lengthening.

“Then you’re in luck,” Daisy says, and Jemma laughs again, because honestly, Daisy acts more like a dorky college student than a centuries-old, immortal monster.

Then Daisy’s fangs sink into her neck, and suddenly Jemma isn’t laughing anymore.

Jemma falls asleep, this time. Daisy hasn’t taken too much blood; she’s very controlled, very cautious, but Jemma’s body decides it’s time for a break anyway. She falls asleep in Daisy’s arms, feeling… _safe_ , she supposes is the best word, in her half-asleep mind. Daisy makes her feel safe, warm.

Jemma’s last conscious thought is that she’s having far too many _feelings_ for a vampire that she’s known for less than a day.

Jemma wakes up some unknown amount of time later. It had been dark when she and Daisy had arrived at the hotel Daisy is staying at. It had been past midnight when they’d had wine. Now, predawn light is leaking in through the glass balcony doors. Jemma sits up, pushing her hair out of her face. The bed is empty beside her, but Jemma can see Daisy’s silhouette out on the balcony, leaning on the railing. Jemma retrieves a robe from the bathroom, wrapping it around herself and stepping out onto the balcony. She shivers at the cold concrete underneath her bare feet.

“I thought vampires burned up in sunlight,” she says, settling at the railing at Daisy’s side. Daisy is smoking, and Jemma has to make a conscious effort not to make a face at the smell.

“Common misconception,” Daisy says. “The European ones, occasionally. I just burn easily.” She sounds melancholy, contemplative.

“I would tell you the cigarettes could kill you,” Jemma says. “But…” Daisy half-smiles, putting out the cigarette (it’s mostly gone anyway) and tossing the butt into a trashcan in the corner of the balcony.

“One of the benefits of immortality,” Daisy says, almost bitterly. “No cancer.”

“You don’t sound particularly happy about that,” Jemma points out, as gently as she can. Daisy shakes her head and looks down at the street below, letting her hair hide her face from Jemma’s view.

“Just thinking,” she says, that same note of yearning and resignation in her voice. Jemma wants to say something to make it go away.

“How did you end up a vampire?” she says instead. Daisy straightens up, fixing her gaze on the beginnings of the sunrise before them.

“I was born in China,” she says. “Around three hundred years ago. My mother fell in love with an English merchant, who got her pregnant and then sailed back to England and abandoned her. She…she was a good mother.” Daisy still sounds sad, pained, but it’s more bittersweet now, that wistful ache gone. “It…wasn’t easy, back then, for her to raise me by herself. I’m sure you can imagine.” Jemma nods, not speaking. This doesn’t seem like a story meant to be interrupted. “She became a trader, which was very controversial back in the day, a woman running a business. I think she was always sort of hoping that my dad would come back to China someday, so she tried to raise the chances of seeing him again by going into the same business. Didn’t work, but we ended up moving around a lot, buying goods from all over the place and selling them to foreigners. I didn’t have to get married because of it. When I was twenty-four, I met a British captain. He offered me a spot on his ship back to England. I took it, and my mom never forgave me.” Daisy shifts, running a hand through her hair. “We had a fight, the day before I left. She wanted me to stay. I called her…some bad things. I insulted her for letting my father leave. The next morning, she wouldn’t speak to me. So I got on a British trading ship and I left. That was the last time I ever saw her.”

“ _Daisy_ ,” Jemma breathes, because she can’t hold her sympathy inside anymore.

“Turns out, nice British captain was a vampire,” Daisy continues. “He turned me, and I killed him.”

“Killed him?” Jemma repeats. “Wait, what? Literally?”

“Yes, literally,” Daisy says, almost amused. “He was evil. I didn’t want to be a vampire. I didn’t _want_ any of it. He didn’t give me a choice.” Jemma bites her lip. She supposes that’s a fairly good reason to kill someone, if such a thing exists. “I got to England, fell in with a group of vampires from London,” Daisy continues. “Stayed there for a few decades. I went back to China eventually, tried to track down my mother.” She shakes her head. “She died, a few months after I left. Fever.”

“I’m sorry,” Jemma murmurs, setting a hand on Daisy’s where it rests on the railing.

“She was human,” Daisy says quietly. “Humans die.” Jemma grips her hand a bit tighter. Daisy clears her throat. “Anyway,” she says. “There’s about two and a half more centuries to that story, but most of it is pretty boring.” Jemma doubts that, but she lets it go.

“What did you do before blood banks?” she asks instead. Daisy gives her an odd look. “What?”

“Kind of a weird question,” she says. Jemma shrugs.

“Well, we’re in a kind of weird situation,” she says. “Call it scientific curiosity, if you want.” Daisy smiles, shaking her head.

“I asked,” she says simply. “And if no one said yes, I drank animal blood. Gross, but livable.”

“So you never drank from someone without asking?” Daisy exhales.

“Once,” she admits. “I’m not going to lie to you. I did it once. The vampires in London, it was what they did. The girl survived, but…did you know I can taste fear?” Jemma blinks at the sudden change of subject. “There’s something in the blood, when someone is afraid.”

“And it tasted bad?” Jemma assumes.

“No,” Daisy says. “I _liked_ it. And I knew I could never do it again.”

“Well,” Jemma says. “That’s…rather noble of you.” Daisy snorts.

“I’m pretty sure that’s the first time anyone has ever called me _noble_ ,” she comments. She lets go of the railing, and Jemma lets go of her hand.

“So you asking is normal,” she says, turning to lean her hip against the railing and look at Daisy. Daisy mimics the posture. “Is…” She gestures at the balcony doors, at the bed on the other side of them, with its rumpled sheets and the partially full wineglass still sitting on the nightstand.

“I don’t normally sleep with the people I bite, if that’s what you’re asking,” Daisy says, seeming to find the idea amusing. “You’re…I don’t know. Special, I guess.” Jemma should _not_ be reacting to that as strongly as she is, but the compliment makes her feel floaty and lightheaded regardless.

“Well, I think you’re spectacular,” Jemma says. Daisy smiles. Her fangs are retracted, and other than the air of inhuman _something_ that surrounds her, she looks normal. Like any other twenty-something girl, if a particularly gorgeous one. “Come with me,” Jemma blurts suddenly. “I’m going to Greece next. Athens. You’ve probably been there before, but—“

“I haven’t,” Daisy interrupts. She’s smiling, but it doesn’t look happy. That yearning ache from earlier is back in her voice, in her face. “But it doesn’t matter. I can’t go with you, Jemma.”

“Why not?” Jemma asks. “Surely you have a passport. Even if you don’t, we can—“

“That’s not it,” Daisy cuts her off again. She reaches out, cupping Jemma’s face in her palm. “You don’t want this, Jemma. Not really. You don’t want this to go any further than one night. Let it be a good memory. Nothing more.”

“Why would you say that?” Jemma asks, quietly enough that, if it had been windy, Daisy probably couldn’t have heard her. The air is still, though, heavy and quiet.

“Because it’s true,” Daisy says simply. “I’ve fallen in love with humans before. You’ll age, and grow, and change, and die, and I won’t. I’ll be _this_ —“ she gestures at herself with her free hand. “—until the end of time. And the _only_ thing that being with me will do is break both our hearts.”

“Love?” Jemma echoes, mouth suddenly dry. Daisy smiles softly at her.

“It would be easy for me to fall in love with you,” she murmurs, tracing Jemma’s jawline with her fingertips. “If I went with you, I don’t think I could stop myself.” She lets her hand fall back to her side.

“So don’t,” Jemma says desperately. “Don’t stop yourself. Come with me. _Please_.” Daisy looks down. The sun is halfway up now, painting the sky in pink and gold. Daisy looks beautiful in the soft light, ethereal, almost imaginary. Like she’s about to fade away.

Jemma reaches out, catching Daisy’s hand with one of her own, feeling the sudden, irrational need to anchor her here, like she’ll drift out of the world if Jemma lets go. Daisy looks at their interlocked fingers, a curious, half-scared, half-awed expression on her face.

“Okay,” she says after a painfully long few seconds, and Jemma swears her heart is about to break through her ribcage.

“Okay?” she echoes. Daisy steps forward, slipping her fingers into Jemma’s hair. Her fingertips drift over the bite mark on Jemma’s neck on the way, and Jemma shivers in a way that has nothing to do with the cold of the morning or the thinness of the robe she’s wearing.

“Yes,” Daisy clarifies. “Yes, I’ll go with you.” Jemma smiles, and then Daisy is kissing her again, and Jemma doesn’t think she’ll ever be cold again.

**Author's Note:**

> there ya go! i'm always accepting prompts; leave a comment here or send me an ask on tumblr @daisys-quake. leave a comment and kudos if you enjoyed.


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